


wretched things

by andthentheybow



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Non-Graphic Violence, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Iliad References, War, dream is achilles, george is patroclus, no knowledge of the iliad or soa required to read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28797555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthentheybow/pseuds/andthentheybow
Summary: “You assume that we still would have found each other, had the circumstances been different,” Dream had pointed out.“Of course we would have,” George replied. “It’s destiny, isn’t it? When two people love each other they’re bound to find each other, no matter where in the world they are.”“I don’t believe in destiny,” Dream said after a moment. “But I believe in us.”or, the story of achilles and patroclus is a tragedy. dream and george are living it.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 50
Kudos: 69





	1. i. the song of achilles

**Author's Note:**

> title is a quote from the iliad - “we men are wretched things.”  
> no prior knowledge of the iliad or the song of achilles is required to read this  
> for those of you who do have prior knowledge and want character comparisons, see end notes
> 
> this started as a goof between backtopluto and i, and now we’re here  
> & of course thank you to my lovely betas ari, jeyje, & kya!!!

There’s something in the air. It’s settling on his skin, filling his bones, screaming to him, breathe, breathe, breathe. He breathes.

Dream slams him to the ground with a triumphant grin. George lashes out with one leg, taking Dream down. His best friend lands flat on top of him. He could’ve easily avoided George’s leg and they both know it, but it allows them to touch, to be this close, so what’s the harm? George rolls them over so he’s on top, so they’re pressed chest to chest, and he breathes.

“Good one,” Dream says, the usual soft smile on his face that he reserves for only when he and George are sparring. “How long have you been practicing that?”

“Shut up,” George says with a grin.

There’s a beat in his lungs, a song, and the rhythm is  _ Dream, Dream, Dream. _ The melodies are Dream’s words and the harmonies are his laughs. Dream is a song, and George must have been blessed by the gods to be able to listen to it.

They are sixteen years old and they have their whole lives in front of them. The great Chiron is training Dream and he has not sent George away, did not send George away when he first came and does not plan on doing it yet. They are away from the watchful eyes of Dream’s mother and they are free and they are happy.

There’s a pounding in the earth and it is calling to George. He dreams of the boy whose arms he spends sleepless nights wrapped in. He dreams of the sea swallowing him whole. He dreams of colors he can’t even begin to describe, golden eyes he knows are green. He dreams of a battlefield he hopes he never has to see, bloodied armor and a woman whose face he doesn’t know and the pain of something he can’t describe.

On nights like that, he walks outside and scrubs his face raw with water and lets the pounding of the earth rest in his feet. Dream rarely sleeps if George isn’t wrapped in his arms, so he’ll come out of their little cave and sit next to him and stare at the stars. And for a moment, everything will be alright.

Then they will go back to sleep and wake up and he will remember that Dream is fated to die, it was prophesied, and when things are prophesied it is rare that they do not come true. George knows this, and Dream knows it. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

They both know that Dream is fated for glory. That’s why his mother hates George so much, after all; Dream chose George as his companion, whatever form that companionship may take, a long time ago. She doesn’t think a regular person like George is worthy of someone who will be as victorious as Dream. She wants them separated. Dream will have no such thing. He would fight a hundred gods before he let George be taken from his side, and George knows this.

And  _ gods _ , George wishes Dream would just kiss him.

George himself knows he couldn’t take on a god. But he would fight them anyways, to stay by Dream’s side. That’s the only place that feels like home- wherever Dream is.

At night, he prays to the gods that he doesn’t think are listening. He asks them to keep Dream safe. He knows that it’s a prayer they cannot answer.

There is something in the air. It’s settling on his skin, it’s filling his bones, it’s a melody growing in his lungs that sounds like his best friend’s name. Every wheeze is another note, and every chord strikes his heart like a tiny dagger. His lungs are full of his best friend’s song.

He breathes around it.

  
  
  
  


Bad and Sapnap find them in Scyros. They’ve been in hiding for what feels like ages but has really been nowhere near that long. Bad is too smart for his own good, chosen by Athena herself, possibly the cleverest commander of the Greeks. Sapnap is another of the Achaean commanders, the youngest of the bunch. The two seek out Dream, knowing that he is to lead the Myrmidons, his people, into battle.

The war between the Greeks and the Trojans has been going on for months at this point. The competition between Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite is well-known by now, as well as the tale of the mortal forced to choose the fairest goddess of them all. Prince Wilbur of Troy chose Aphrodite, and Aphrodite gave him the love of Niki, the most beautiful woman in the world.

This did not please Niki’s husband Quackity, King of Sparta, or Quackity’s older brother Schlatt, King of Mycenae. Schlatt declared war on Troy, and the Greeks, the Achaeans, rose to arms.

What feels like a hundred years ago, George was forced to take a blood oath to protect Niki’s marriage. Dream took no such oath, but he’s already well-known as the greatest warrior in Greece. His mother does not want him to fight; everyone else does.

So when Bad and Sapnap weasel them out of hiding, they have no choice but to go.

George tries to talk Dream out of it. They know the prophecy; if Dream fights Prince Technoblade, strongest of the Trojans, he’s fated to die.

“I won’t fight him, then,” Dream shrugs. “He’s never done anything to me. Why would I seek him out?”

George knows that it doesn’t work like that. But Dream’s heart is beating in time with the drums of war, and George’s heart is beating in time with Dream’s name. So Bad and Sapnap ask them to go, and they go.

They meet Schlatt in Aulis, and he and Dream immediately clash. Often times George finds himself standing off to the side, waiting for Dream and Schlatt to finish arguing so they can get a move on with whatever they’re supposed to be doing. Dream requests one tent for both him and George; they get a few strange looks, but no one says anything. Most of them are too afraid of Dream to actually bring it up.

And at night, when they’re alone, George wraps himself in Dream’s arms, and Dream holds him close to his chest, and George can hear his lover’s heart beating and it is beating loud and strong, and as long as Dream’s heart beats, George knows he can do anything.

Dream will pepper kisses on his face, up and down his neck, and when he finally reaches his lips, he’ll hesitate. Every time. And George will reach forward and connect their lips and everything in the world will feel right. There will be no war, no prophecy, no impending doom for all of them. There will be Dream and George and their hearts beating in unison with each other, and everything will be alright.

The Greek forces are stranded at Aulis. There is no wind; they cannot sail on Troy.

“Artemis demands a sacrifice,” a priest tells them when they consult him. He gestures to Schlatt. “The king’s daughter.”

Dream isn’t told. Schlatt’s daughter is killed. Artemis grants them the winds to sail, and Dream and Schlatt abandon all hope of ever being able to work together.

George is the listening ear to many of Dream’s rants about Schlatt. With Dream as the commander, they’re given their own cabin on one of Phthia’s ships, meaning George is alone when he sits on the bed and Dream paces back and forth and complains. He sits and listens and then forces Dream to sit down so he can massage his shoulders. Massaging his shoulders usually turns into other things, and when they’re both cuddled together, things are alright again, Schlatt is forgotten.

Then they arrive at Troy.

The city is impenetrable, walls built by the gods, impossible to get to. King Philza can hide his troops inside the city, so they conduct raids on small farming towns, plan on cutting off their food source. Schlatt and Dream clash more often than they don’t.

Dream and George continue to share a tent. They continue to sleep in each other’s arms. They both come back covered in blood, but for very different reasons; Dream finds his passion on the battlefield, and George finds his in the infirmary. Dream retains his status as the most terrifying of the Achaean warriors, his armor sending men running back. His infamous helmet, painted to resemble a horrific smiling face, strikes fear in the hearts of even those fighting on his side.

Resources are taken. Men are killed. Women are captured. Treasure is confiscated. The heroes of the day are always the first to claim their riches, and Dream and Schlatt are always given first pick. Dream usually refuses. Schlatt never does.

The day comes that Dream doesn’t refuse, and it’s entirely because of George. There are two women standing there, freshly kidnapped. Schlatt claims one of them as his, and George grabs Dream’s arm.

“Claim the other,” he says.

“What?” Dream replies, glancing down. “Why would I-”   
  


“So she doesn’t end up with someone else,” George hisses. “Claim the other.” He gives Dream the eyes that he knows he can’t say no to, and Dream sighs.

  
“I claim the other,” Dream says loudly. There are a few complaints from the men, and the terrified-looking girl is shoved toward Dream harshly. The disbursement of riches continues, and Dream and George go back to their tent. Dream clutches the girl’s arm the whole way, but the second they’re inside, he lets go and backs off. He gestures to George, the obviously less terrifying of the two.

“Can you understand me?” George asks. The girl stares at him, still looking terrified. George glances back to Dream helplessly. Dream shrugs.

“George,” he says, gesturing to himself. “My name is George.” He points to Dream. “That’s Dream.”

Dream waves. Unhelpful bastard.

George points to the girl. She seems to get the idea.

“Alyssa,” she says carefully. Her eyes are darting around, still looking like she’s ready to run.

“Do you speak any Greek?” George asks.

Alyssa, it turns out, knows very little Greek. She seems to understand, however, when they give her their spare bedroll, that neither one of them has any interest in her the way men usually have interest in women. She smiles kindly at them as they curl up that night, and George whispers to Dream that he’s going to make it his mission to teach her some Greek.

  
And teach he does, for a while, until they find out that the woman Schlatt claimed the day Dream claimed Alyssa is the daughter of a priest of Apollo.

Chryses comes to them, begging to return his daughter. Schlatt outwardly refuses. A stupid decision, George thinks; they’ve already had to sacrifice Schlatt’s child to appease one of the twin gods. What will they have to do to earn the favor of the other?

Not kidnap the daughter of one of his priests, for starters. Apollo sends a plague down over the Achaeans. For ten days, George doesn’t leave the infirmary, attempting to help the sick, or at least ease them out of the world as best as he can. On the tenth day the other healers finally force him to take a break. Alyssa hugs him the second she sees him, and he tries to convey to her that he might be sick; she doesn’t seem to care.

He can communicate with Dream much easier- Dream comes toward him, and George holds up a hand. He stops, takes a step back.

“Don’t,” George says quietly. “I might be sick, I might infect you-”

“I don’t care,” Dream says, and George knows there are tear tracks cutting through the grime on his face, his eyes are red and puffy, too many men have been dying of a situation that was so easily avoidable-

  
Alyssa leaves the tent quietly as Dream holds George’s face in his hands and tenderly presses their lips together. George melts into it, relaxing for the first time in more than a week, but as Dream tangles his hands through George’s hair, he can’t help but think about the men that are dying while he stops working.

Dream insists on helping; George is vehemently against it, but he allows Dream to come to the infirmary with him. Upon seeing the conditions of the men- hundreds, thousands of them dying, there is no room in the graves anymore- he calls a meeting.

“Is there a soothsayer here?” he demands. George, exhausted, stands at his side. Schlatt looks furious, because they all know that he is the root of their problem, though he will never admit it.

No one wants to step forward. No one wants to anger Schlatt. Then, through the crowd, a man that George recognizes by the pure white eyes gifted to him by the gods. Eret.

“Yes,” Eret says, his voice deep. “I am a seer.”

“Tell me then, Eret,” Dream says. To George, he is clearly grateful that someone has stepped forward; his shoulders melt, and the corners of his mouth quirk up. George doubts anyone else notices, but he does. He always notices. “What is it that causes this plague?”

Eret stands there for a moment, and the crowd of gathered men murmur as his eyes glow. “It is a curse, brought down by Chryses for the enslavement of his daughter,” Eret says, loud enough for all to hear. “Apollo demands her safe return in exchange for the removal of the plague.”

Unsurprisingly, this infuriates Schlatt. Also unsurprisingly, he takes his anger out on Dream. George stands back and watches, along with a gathered crowd of commanders, as the two scream at each other.

“I demand payment for my sacrifice,” Schlatt snarls.

“Sacrifice-” Dream starts, red in the face. One hand goes for his sword; George grabs his wrist. They don’t need a duel, not here, not now, even though they all know Dream would win. “You sacrifice nothing. You sacrifice the lives of thousands of men by sitting on your invisible throne!”

“I demand payment,” Schlatt repeats. “This- this  _ return _ of the girl is your fault. I demand yours.”

“ _ What _ ?” Dream growls.

“No,” George says at the same time. He can feel anger flaring up inside of him, and he knows Dream is just as angry; Schlatt will not touch Alyssa. Schlatt’s eyes dart back toward George, glaring.

“I will take my troops back to Phthia before I let you lay a hand on what is mine,” Dream says. He’s thrown George’s grip off of him by now, but he’s still standing in front of George protectively. This runs deeper than just Alyssa, George knows what Dream is thinking; Schlatt dared to look at George, and now he’ll pay the price. It’d almost be flattering if George didn’t know how bad the consequences will be.

“I will go to your tent and take her myself,” Schlatt retorts.

George can’t stop him; Dream draws his sword. Schlatt unsheathes his own. They’re about to duel, here and now, in front of all the commanders-

And Antfrost steps forward. He’s the oldest of the bunch and likely the wisest, and he puts himself firmly between Dream and Schlatt and looks back and forth between the two of them slowly.

“Think about what you are about to do,” he says, voice low. “And then think again.”

There is a divine light around Dream, they can all see it. Dream sheathes his sword. Schlatt follows.

“The girl will be sent back to her father tonight,” Dream says, glaring at Schlatt. “And you’d better pray to all the gods you know that you haven’t already angered Apollo enough. We have enough gods siding with Troy as is.”

“So it will be done,” Schlatt sneers, voice dripping with sarcasm.

George practically drags Dream back to their tent. The men watch them go; the argument was loud enough to be heard across the troops nearest to them.

“What the hell was that?” George hisses.

“Athena,” Dream snorts. “Come to check my anger. Thank the gods for her and Antfrost, else I would have slain Schlatt where he stood.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

“I hate you,” George tells him, and Dream just grins back. “You get to explain to Alyssa why Schlatt’s going to be after her now.”

Dream doesn’t explain to Alyssa, George does. She seems accepting of her fate, but she looks at Dream sadly.

“If I am not there to tell you,” she says solemnly. “Be careful.”

“I will,” Dream promises, and they all know he’s lying.

Dream is the eternal warrior; no blade can pierce his skin except for the spot where his mother held him when she dipped him in the River Styx. No man knows where that spot is except for George, who grabs it when Dream is being annoying, who presses tender kisses to it when Dream sticks his feet in his lap. It is the one place where he can be killed, and still on occasion he wears  _ sandals _ into battle.

(“It’s a challenge that way,” Dream tells them earnestly.

“Nothing is a challenge for you,” Alyssa says, and George laughs, loud and proud.)

Bad returns Chryses’s daughter that night. He tells them he prayed to Apollo, and the plague is lifted; George, in the infirmary, rejoices with the other healers as those still sick miraculously recover. On his way back to the tent, he sees heralds clearly sent by Schlatt.

He breaks into a sprint, and he manages to get there before them. Dream is attempting to teach Alyssa last-minute self defense, and she seems to be picking up on it quickly. George hugs her tight mere moments before Schlatt’s men arrive.

“Tell Schlatt,” Dream says, loudly, so the Myrmidons around them can hear. “That if he does this, my men and I will not fight.”

“What?” George snaps. Dream doesn’t look at him.

“We will not leave, but we will not partake in battle. We will sit here so you may always know what you are lacking; go. Tell Schlatt.”

They go. They take Alyssa. They tell Schlatt.

He storms up to them, furious, and Dream crosses his arms and doesn’t move as Schlatt yells. He holds his position; if Alyssa is with Schlatt, he will not fight.

“Dream,” George says an hour later, after Schlatt leaves, red in the face. Dream looks furious. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Dream says, and his voice is colder than George has ever heard it.

“Alright,” George agrees. “Then I support you.”

Honestly, he’s a little glad. He doesn’t like the idea of Dream being out there, bathed in his enemies’ blood. But Dream moping around the tent is just as bad.

They’re laying in bed. George thinks Dream is asleep. But he shifts, sits up, starts putting on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” George asks.

  
“To talk to my mother,” Dream replies. He comes back twenty minutes later; Thetis is pleading their case to Zeus. The Achaeans will pay for the hit to Dream’s pride.

George is disappointed. He doesn’t say it, but he thinks Dream can tell. They lay next to each other, on their backs, not touching, and George’s heart is pounding out the rhythm of Dream’s breathing. Dream reaches out and laces their fingers together loosely, giving George enough room to pull away.

He doesn’t pull away.

  
  
  
  


Dream is not there, but George is. As much as they are a pair, Dream’s choices are not the same as George’s. So Dream is in their tent with his men gathered around in support, none of them going to fight, but George is there when Schlatt speaks of a dream he had in which Antfrost encouraged him that they could take the city if they launched a full-scale attack.

“However,” he says loudly. “I have decided to return to Greece. Hope must be lost.”

It’s a ruse. Schlatt is testing their courage. George has read of tricks like this before, and the men fall for it. They rush for the ships, eager to give up, and Bad stands tall, his voice amplified, and encourages them to stay and fight.

“Remember Eret’s vision!” he yells. “Nine long years before the city would fall! Nine years, and we will be victorious!”

He’s able to convince them. George reports back to Dream.

“Everyone’s recognizing how dire the situation is,” Dream drawls. “Obviously Schlatt underestimated how low the morale of the troops is.”

“You aren’t helping,” George points out.

“Are you going to try to convince me to fight? You were scorned also, George, or do you forget the way he whispers about you?”

George knows what they call him. He tries not to let it bother him. That doesn’t mean Dream has to bring it up.

“I remember,” George says, his voice low. “I’m not going to convince you to do anything, Dream. I want Alyssa back as much as you do.” Because she is his friend. Because if she is back, Dream will fight, and they can get this over with.

But if she doesn’t come back, if Dream doesn’t fight, if they do give up this war- then Dream will be safe. He will not die at Troy like he is fated to.

But fate is a tricky thing to outplay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character comparisons in case anyone was wondering-
> 
> achilles - dream  
> patroclus - george  
> briseis - alyssa  
> agamemnon - schlatt  
> melanaus - quackity  
> odysseus - bad  
> diomedes - sapnap  
> nestor - antfrost  
> calchas - eret  
> phoenix - karl  
> paris - wilbur  
> helen - niki  
> hector - techno  
> priam - phil


	2. ii. i’ll tell you a secret,

George and Dream fell in love slowly and quickly and all at once. 

They were kids and they were best friends; Dream was a prince, George was exiled. He wasn’t the toughest kid, or the bravest, or the biggest. In fact, he was one of the scrawniest, and he had gotten startled by things he shouldn’t have more than once. But he was smart, and he wasn’t afraid to stand up for what he believed in. There must’ve been something else that made Dream choose him as his companion, he always thought, because being smart couldn’t be enough to get him there.

They were twelve when he asked about it.

“Come on,” he had said. “There has to be something else. Did your mother tell you too?”

“No,” Dream had snorted. “My mother hates you.”

Which, alright. He knew that already.

“Why, then?”

“Oh, come on now.”

George was adamant for a response.

“Because you’re you,” Dream had shrugged, his face red.

And that’s all the answer he ever got.

They fell in love slowly and quickly and all at once. George would follow Dream to the ends of the earth, to Hades and back, and he would’ve done it even if he wasn’t meant to be some great hero. But Dream was invincible; George was very good at getting accidentally injured. A perfect match, he often pointed out sarcastically.

They fell in love slowly, with the rise and set of the sun, with the movement of the constellations. They fell in love with the long days and longer nights of always being next to each other and never being able to touch, with the pining they knew the other felt and would never act on, with the long stares when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They fell in love slowly.

They fell in love quickly, with the downswing of Chiron’s blade as he trained them, with the rumble of the mountains as centaurs rode around them. They fell in love with the clashing of their swords, with the agility they both learned to carry, with the glances they sent each other’s way and the head snaps as they pretended not to be looking. They fell in love quickly.

They fell in love all at once. After another day of wishing Dream would just kiss him, when they were looking up at the stars, he reached out and took George’s hand. Not an uncommon occurrence. Then George glanced over to see Dream looking back at him, and he didn’t look away, and George leaned closer and he still didn’t look away, and he kept not looking away, and then Dream’s mouth was on his and there were no sparks in his chest but everything felt right.

They fell in love, in time with the beat of George’s heart, with the pounding of Dream’s feet against the earth. They fell in love, in tune with the lyre and the harp and the roar of the waves of the grand sea constantly going inside of George’s brain. They fell in love, under sunlight and moonlight and the brilliant, beautiful stars.

And now, looking at Dream crossing his arms and pouting like a child, George wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss the pout off his lips. He wants to grab Dream’s hands and feel them weave through his hair and weave his own hands through those long golden locks. He wants to slide onto Dream’s lap and kiss him until they’re both breathless, until there’s no space left between them, until the only thing they can think of is each other.

Instead, he rolls his eyes and nudges Dream with his hip, trying to convey the message that he’s ready for bed. He’s washed the blood of the dead off his hands, and now he wants to sleep before he re-bathes in the red liquid of the damned. Dream gets the message and lays down. George lays next to him and doesn’t think about how far away the love of his life feels. Dream wraps him in his arms and holds him close and he has never felt more distant.

What feels like a million years ago, Dream kissed George for the first time. It was chaste, and it was everything.

Now, he presses his lips to the back of George’s neck before they fall asleep, and George wonders if they’re below the same sky they fell in love under.

  
  
  
  


There is a poet telling the story of the Achaeans and the Trojans. The poet calls on the Muses to guide their hand, to jot down the tale of those who will fight and die and live and love.

George doesn’t get his information from a poet. He gets it from Bad, who he meets every night after Callahan forces him out of the infirmary. Bad keeps him updated on everything going on in the field, and in turn George tells him of the changes in Dream’s stance on fighting.

“Exactly the same.”

Bad looks like he wants to curse, but he’s a better man than that.

George learns what he can from Bad about both their own troops and the Trojans. Fighting on their side, in addition to the great commanders George already knows, are notable names such as Punz, Purpled, and Ponk; the Trojans, in addition to the royal family, have warriors like Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy.

It’s not long after that the Trojans march to meet the Achaeans in peace. George and Callahan are tending to the wounded when a messenger runs from the field, sent by Bad. The messengers know better by now to go for George rather than Dream.

“Wilbur has challenged any one Achaean warrior to a duel,” the messenger tells them. “Will Dream still not fight?”

“Dream will still not fight,” George says sternly. He’s glad they bothered him about this and not his partner; even George can see why it would be foolish for Dream to leave his solitude for this. Dream is fated to die after Techno’s death, and if his brother is killed in a duel, George could see it being more likely for Techno to challenge Dream and die by his hand.

The messenger leaves, and later, Callahan tells him that Quackity stepped forward.

“Wilbur retreated, apparently, and Techno berated him for his cowardice,” Callahan says with a slight smirk. It’s enough to make George laugh. He thinks it’s good that Quackity was the one to fight; this whole war was started over Niki, after all. At its core it is a war between Quackity and Wilbur.

Schlatt is furious when they return. Apparently Wilbur was whisked away by divine means, likely Aphrodite’s interjection, and their commander is demanding Niki’s return.

“Quackity won that duel,” he cries loud enough for the entire encampment to hear. “I want her returned!”

They don’t secure her return.

George relays the tale he’s heard to Dream that night. He tells him how Philza and Niki were both watching from the walls, how Philza turned away so he didn’t need to watch Wilbur die.

“Of course the goddess of love intervened,” Dream spits.

  
“What grievance have you with Aphrodite?” George asks, leaning his head on Dream’s lap. “Are you not satisfied in your love?”

He’s teasing, his tone playful, and Dream leans forward to place a kiss to his forehead.

“I am satisfied,” he says, his voice almost reverential.

The fragile truce the Greeks and the Trojans have is quickly broken. A Trojan archer George learns is called Ranboo fires at Quackity. Through some divine intervention the arrow only wounds the king rather than kills him. It completely shatters any hope for resolving the conflict without further bloodshed; Schlatt calls the troops to arms. George is there to watch it happen, representing Phthia while Dream refuses to leave their tent.

“Come on!” Schlatt yells. “Remember your pride, the deeds of your fathers! Remember why you are here today! Today, we fight!”

Sapnap, Bad, and Antfrost all rally their troops. The tales of the fight come from so many people George begins to lose track, but most of his information comes from Sapnap himself when the commander ends up in the infirmary.

“Athena’s firmly on our side, then,” Sapnap says as George bandages the wound on his arm. “That Trojan archer, the one who injured Quackity- Ranboo- he got me, as well.”

“How do you know his name?” George asks. “I wasn’t aware he was a fighter of any prominence.”

“I asked for his name before I killed him,” Sapnap replies with a cocky grin. “I asked Athena for revenge, and she granted it. Then Tommy tried to have a go at me- you know Tommy?”

Of course he knows Tommy. Son of Aphrodite, Trojan nobleman, a bit cocky. Dream’s complained about him multiple times.

“Yes,” George replies simply. Sapnap winces as he tightens the bandage and cuts off the excess with his knife. He rolls his shoulder a few times and grins at George.

“I injured him, too, and when his mother showed up to get him out of there, I drew blood.”

“You drew the blood of a goddess?”

“I did.”

Dream will be jealous.

“And then I went after Apollo, which I wasn’t supposed to do, but it’s not like he killed me, I mean, I just got a scolding and he took Tommy away, and also Ares is fighting with the Trojans now.”

“Oh,” George says. Blood is already beginning to seep through the bandage, but they’re running out of stitches and he doesn’t want to waste any on non-life-threatening injuries. Sapnap doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s cool, I injured him too. He and Techno were wreaking mad terror, even I was kinda scared and that’s saying something- you did  _ not _ hear that from me, though- and Bad kind of went a little crazy but you know Techno-”

He does know Techno. He knows that if Techno dies, Dream dies, but Dream is going to be the only one able to kill Techno. He’d rather not hear anything about Techno, if possible.

“Anyways, Hera herself rallied our troops, Zeus must be getting tired of this, Athena helped me wound Ares, and then all of the gods withdrew.”

That statement alone has a  _ lot _ to process, in George’s opinion. Later, when he tells Dream, his partner roars with laughter, nearly falling off the chair he’s sitting on in their tent. George is standing as he recounts the tale, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Dream says, his face falling. “You’re not joking.”   
  


“I’m not,” George confirms.

Dream seems to be thinking about it. George thinks, vaguely, that if he were just processing the information, he would’ve said something by now. No, Dream is trying to come to a decision. And if he isn’t speaking, it means a decision George will likely have an opinion on, and a strong one at that.

“They don’t need me,” Dream eventually says. George tries not to laugh, knowing this is serious. Of course they need Dream, he’s fated for greatness here, isn’t he? They must have need for him-

  
“They don’t need me,” Dream repeats stubbornly, as if reading his mind. Or maybe he spoke aloud, he’s tired, it’s been a long day. “They have gods on their side. Clearly Sapnap is capable, if he injured the god of war and violence himself. They have Bad, and Punz, and Schlatt- I’m not needed here.”   
  


“You are  _ destined _ to be here, Dream,” George reminds him.

“I’m destined to  _ die _ here,” Dream corrects. “How can that happen if I leave? If I don’t fight Techno- which I still have no need to do- I won’t die. Think about it, George, we can return home. We can be happy.”

“And how do you think your father would feel, knowing that you abandoned a war for your scorned pride?” George snaps. “You would face him alone, Dream, for I took a blood oath. I must stay and fight this war no matter what.”

Dream clearly didn’t remember, based on the look on his face. George doesn’t blame him. It was so long ago, sometimes George forgets, too.

“How awful that you took that oath,” he mutters. “I will not return home while you are forced to defend a loveless marriage. Though it is-”

“Hardly Niki’s fault,” George interrupts quickly. “That men started a war for her. Something which she has no control over.”

“I agree with you, George,” Dream says, smile playing at the corner of his lips as easily as his fingers play the strings of the lyre. “I was going to say that it is hardly fair that you fight for the blood oath your father made you take.”

George bristles at the mention of his father. Dream stands from his place at the bed and reaches out, cupping George’s face in his hand. He brings their lips together for a moment, though George pulls back before it can go anywhere further than a chaste kiss. He rests their foreheads together and allows himself to just breathe in  _ Dream _ for a moment.

“We won’t go anywhere,” Dream promises. “But I still will not fight.”

“I still won’t expect you to,” George replies. “I doubt even the gods could change your mind.”

Dream wheezes and pulls back, and George smiles, and his heart is full. For a moment, just a moment, he lets himself have that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more character comparisons for my fellow nerds:
> 
> ajax - punz  
> little ajax - purpled  
> machaon - callahan  
> idomeneus - ponk  
> aeneas - tommy  
> polydamas - tubbo  
> agenor - puffy  
> pandarus - ranboo
> 
> comment and i'll give you my hand in platonic marriage


	3. iii. something they don’t teach you in your temple:

George has a strained relationship with the gods.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe they exist. Of course he believes they exist. He’s seen firsthand the destruction they can bring, the chaos they can cause, the pain that comes from mortals interacting with the beings they worship. He’s heard the tales, he knows the stories.

His relationship with the gods stems from his relationship with destiny. He’s heard that the universe is meant to be kind, that in the end, love rules. If the universe was kind, he thinks, it would allow him and Dream to grow old together. If the universe was kind, he wouldn’t fear for his best friend’s life every minute of every day. If the universe was kind, it wouldn’t have the love of his life be fated to die.

And the gods- they encourage destiny. They encourage heroics, and war, and fighting. It’s all they ever seem to do. George hates them for it.

But at the same time, they’re the cause of all the good. Dream is here because of the gods; how could he ever hate them for creating something as beautiful as Dream?

Their outlooks on life are very different. A million years ago, they laid in a cave, on the same bedroll, their faces inches apart. They weren’t touching, but they were breathing.

“I hate this,” George had said. “I hate it all. Why must you be destined for greatness?”

“Would you rather I be destined for mediocrity?” Dream had asked, a mischievous smile growing on his face. George rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered honestly. “Because then you could be a- a- a farmer, or something. I could be your stablehand. We wouldn’t need to worry about monsters or wars or swordfighting.”

“You assume that we still would have found each other, had the circumstances been different,” Dream had pointed out.

“Of course we would have,” George said. “It’s destiny, isn’t it? I love you, and you love me, and when two people love each other they’re bound to find each other, no matter where in the world they are.”

It was rare, back then, that George professed his love with words. It still is rare, now. He remembers that moment as the first time he ever said it, and he remembers the way the blush had spread across Dream’s face.

“I don’t believe in destiny,” Dream had said after a moment. “But I believe in us.”

And then he had leaned forward and pressed his lips against George’s, and George responded almost hungrily. Because there is a starvation that comes with love, but it’s a starvation that is worth it, that he will go through again and again and again, just for the sweet relief that comes with feeling Dream’s lips on his.

Dream’s outlook on life is this: even if one is destined for something, their choices are their consequences. You can change fate by merely taking it into your own hands. The Fates weave their tapestry, but you can pull on the strings.

George thinks that’s stupid. The Fates are the ones weaving the tapestry for a reason; they are the ones who know how the story gets told. They are the ones who decide who gets to grow old. You can pull on the strings, but in the end, the Fates always pull harder.

George’s outlook on life is this: they are doomed to die. May as well enjoy it while they can.

George does not think the universe is kind. He doesn’t think the universe is looking out for them. If the universe was on their side, it wouldn’t have told them that Dream would die after Techno did. It wouldn’t have told them that the only one to kill Techno would be Dream.

“I won’t fight Techno, then,” Dream had said when they were alone, when George first brought it up. “Maybe I won’t even fight in the war. I could become a farmer, and you could be my stablehand.”

Some believe in the gods, believe that the gods have a plan, that that plan is great. George thinks that if the gods were on their side, they wouldn’t have created something as beautiful as Dream with the plan of bringing about his destruction. The gods are on no one’s side but their own. And in the end, since the gods rule the universe- well, there is nothing on the side of the mortals.

George knows the gods are real. But he doesn’t believe in them. He doesn’t believe they can be good. Not when Dream is still fated for death.

  
  
  
  


Sapnap slips into their tent late in the night. He doesn’t even bother announcing his presence. It’s not like they’re doing anything, anyways- Dream is on the ground, absentmindedly playing his lyre, and George is laying on the bedroll and staring up at the ceiling. Callahan kicked him out of the infirmary a few hours earlier, claiming with no injured soldiers forthcoming, the fighting must have already stopped for the night.

George sits up immediately when Sapnap enters. He doesn’t look any more bloodied than he normally does, which is a good sign, and he sits down on the ground next to Dream.

  
“Hey,” he says. Dream stops playing.

“No,” he says. He resumes.

“I’m not here to convince you of anything,” Sapnap says. “I respect your pride and your dislike of Schlatt. I’m just here to talk about what happened.”

“What happened?” George asks, sliding down onto the ground to sit near him. Dream sighs and sets the lyre off to the side.

“Techno offered himself up in a duel to end the war,” Sapnap tells them excitedly. “Quackity stepped forward but Schlatt stopped him-”

“Good, no way in Hades Quackity wins that,” Dream snorts.

“Who ended up fighting?” George asks, waving for Dream to be quiet.

“Antfrost managed to convince nine people to step forward, there was a lottery, Punz won. Or lost, depending on how you look at it.”

“Well, good for Punz,” George says quickly. “He’s the most likely to win.”  _ After Dream _ is left unspoken. “Did they duel?”

“Yeah,” Sapnap snorts. “Spears, nothing. Lances, Punz drew blood.”

“Punz drew blood?” Dream echoes. He sends George a look that clearly says  _ see? They don’t need me. _ George tries to convey  _ shut the fuck up  _ in the glare he sends back.

“Punz drew blood,” Sapnap confirms. “They were about to go at it with swords when Zeus’s heralds called it off on account of nightfall. And then Techno and Punz  _ shook hands _ and made a pact of  _ friendship _ .” He shakes his head. “Ant’s trying to encourage Schlatt to ask for a day to bury the dead right now.”

“I’m assuming he’ll get it, the Trojans need it as much as we do,” George snorts. “Are they talking about fortifications?”

“I think so. Dream-”

“Punz and Techno really made a pact of friendship?”

“Yeah, I think Techno was impressed that Punz managed to draw blood. Why, you jealous?”

“Never,” Dream snorts. “Just glad it’s not me out there fighting him.”

The tent falls silent. Sapnap’s face falls.

“Sorry, man,” he says quietly.

  
“It’s nothing,” Dream replies. “Let Bad know Phthia isn’t going anywhere for now, but we’re still not fighting.”

It’s clearly a dismissal; Dream wants Sapnap gone.

“Alright,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll see you around, George.”

“See you,” George replies, trying not to sound as miserable as he feels. If Dream just pulled out their troops, then he could go home, he could live, and someday when this war is over and George’s blood oath is fulfilled he could follow. They could be farmers. They could stop worrying about war.

“What’s on your mind?” Dream asks.

“Nothing,” George replies. They both know he’s lying.

The next day, George is present when the Trojans offer them a compromise.

“They offered the loot Wilbur took from Sparta,” Quackity snarls. “The loot. As if that’s what we started a war over.”

“Well-” Sapnap mutters to George, and George snorts.

“The Trojans are getting desperate,” Bad points out. “This is an offer made out of need, not out of want. Even without Dream fighting, they’re beginning to see we still have many warriors that can match their own.”

“What are you saying?” Schlatt asks.   
  
“It would be wise to reject the compromise,” Antfrost says, and Bad nods. “Unless, of course, you feel that we have more to lose.”

“Reject it,” Quackity says, shaking his head. “They scorn us.”

“Fine, then,” Schlatt says with a nod. “They’ve given us a day to bury our dead, and we have given them the same. Resume construction of our fortifications.”

“The gods will destroy them the second we step away,” Sapnap mutters. “Poseidon is against us, who knows where Zeus stands.”

“At least it gives us a little bit of hope,” George counters.

“What good is hope when the king of gods is against us?” Sapnap wonders aloud, and he shakes George’s hand quickly before they go their separate ways.

The next day is a nightmare. George is there to see Zeus turn the tide in favor of the Trojans. George is there to see Techno singling out Antfrost, with Sapnap managing to rescue him in the nick of time. George is there to see Techno pursuing them back to fortifications. Schlatt rouses the troops, and Zeus sends a sign as if he hadn’t been against them mere moments ago, and the fight goes on.

George takes up his place with the archers. He works as hard as he can to fell as many Trojans as possible, focusing on the ones surrounding Sapnap and Bad. At one point in the battle he makes eye contact with Techno. Recognition flashes across the Trojan prince’s face, and he sneers up at George. He throws a spear, and it barely grazes along George’s leg. He does nothing in response but fire another arrow into the fray.

The Trojans drive the Greeks back behind the fortifications. They light hundreds of fires, not giving them a chance to slip away. George limps back to the tent, his leg bloodied. Sapnap catches him on the way.

“Who did that?” he asks, looking down at the hastily-wrapped bandage around George’s calf.

“Techno,” George replies. He catches Sapnap’s wrist. “Don’t tell Dream.”

Understanding passes between the two. If Dream finds out George was wounded at Techno’s hand, he’d seek the Trojan out, demand a duel. Techno dies, Dream dies, all of this for nothing-

“I won’t,” Sapnap promises.

Dream is rightly furious at the entire situation. He forces George to sit and tenderly rewraps his leg and then presses his lips to the fresh bandage, like that will make him feel better.

It does.

“You’re disgusting,” George says with a laugh.

“Tell me who did this, and I’ll flay them alive,” Dream says, wrapping George in his arms and peppering his jaw and neck with kisses.

“You’re a menace,” George chokes out, pushing back long enough to press a quick kiss to his lips. “It was some random Trojan, Dream, I don’t know. You know they pushed us back to the fortifications? We’ve no way out.”

“I know,” Dream says, leaning in for another kiss. George grants it.

“You’re the only thing that can prevent their downfall, Dream.” Another kiss.

“I know.”

Later, George arrives at a gathering of commanders just in time to hear Sapnap declaring that even if the others leave, he will stay and fight.

“Remember,” he growls. “Troy is fated to fall.”

Troy is fated to fall. Dream is fated to die. George is really, really sick of fate.

Antfrost suggests reconciliation with Dream, glaring at Schlatt as he does so. George swallows the sick feeling in the back of his throat and returns to the tent.

“What?” Dream asks, seeing the look on his face.

“They’re coming to ask for forgiveness,” George tells him. Dream rolls his eyes. “Play me something?”

“Of course, my love,” Dream says. He grabs the lyre and plays, and George sits back and listens and breathes around the song growing in his lungs.

“Dream!” Bad’s voice calls from outside. Dream and George exchange a look. Dream keeps playing.

“Dream,” Punz’s voice calls next. “We have with us an offering from Schlatt, a great stockpile of gifts in exchange for your return to the Achaean lines.”

Dream plays louder. George tries not to laugh at the look on his face.

“Dream,” Karl’s voice comes last, softer now. “We know you’re in there. Stop playing and hear us out.”

Dream stops playing. He nods to George, who sighs and prepares to get up.

  
“Your leg,” Dream hisses. “Sit down.”

“Do you want me to greet them or not?” George hisses back.

Gods, he hopes Sapnap isn’t out there. He’d say something about them bickering like an old married couple. And though doubtless the rest of the Achaean commanders know about his relationship with Dream, it wouldn’t do them any good to be thrown out to the wolves. Not now, when they need Dream fighting, when anything could be used against him.

“Come in,” Dream says. “Just the three of you. What have you brought from Schlatt?”

“Gold,” Punz says, entering the tent first. “Riches. All you could desire and more.”

“Did he send Alyssa?” Dream asks, one eyebrow raised. “If she is not among what he is offering me, then I do not care.”

“Is one woman worth that much to you?” Punz asks.

“Yes,” Dream and George both growl at the same time.

“Alyssa is not among the offered gifts,” Bad admits. “But I’m sure something can be arranged-”

“Schlatt has damaged my pride,” Dream says haughtily. “If he wants my help now, after he has scorned me thus, he’ll have to beg for it himself. Why would I fight when I could take George and simply return to Phthia? Live out the rest of my days there? If I stay and fight, I’ll die in glory, but I’ll still die.”

“You can’t be serious,” Karl says. “You’re not returning-”

“You’re welcome to come with,” Dream shrugs. He glances at George, who shakes his head. “No, I’m not returning. But I’m not fighting. Not without Schlatt begging for my forgiveness and Alyssa returned.”

And with that, the delegation leaves.

“Did you really have to go that far?” George asks.

“You want Alyssa back too, do you not?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“George,” Dream says, his voice low. He makes sure the delegation is gone, then creeps over to George, caging him in against the bed. “You know I do it all for you. Were it not for your oath, I would have taken you back to Phthia and we could live the rest of our long lives together. But for you, I will stay until this war is over. You know that, don’t you? That I do it all for you?”

“I know,” George breathes out. His heart is pounding in time with Dream’s. Even when he isn’t fighting, Dream’s heart is pounding in time with the drums of war.

He breathes in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character comparisons not previously mentioned:
> 
> phoenix - karl


	4. iv. the gods envy us.

George is standing at the edge of the sea.

He is sixteen years old and he is not supposed to be here. He is dreaming and he knows that in reality he is in a cave wrapped in Dream’s arms. He is dreaming and he knows that in reality this sea is nothing to him, nothing but the endless expanse of void crashing against his skull, thrumming in his brain, behind his closed eyes.

He is standing at the edge of the sea and he is on a cliff and he is overlooking the end. He has avoided the water since Dream told him about his mother, about Thetis, who does not think George is deserving of someone like Dream.

And now he is here, in his dream, and the sea is below him and the land is behind him. The waves are crashing against the cliff face and they’re crashing against his heart. The sea is calling to him in a way it has never called to him before.

He jumps.

The water isn’t cold. It doesn’t feel like anything, really, and he doesn’t try to swim to the surface. He just sits there, in the water, not breathing, not moving, and eventually, there’s a woman before him.

“You jumped,” she says. The sea moves around her, like it’s part of her, and George knows he is looking at Dream’s mother. He says nothing. “I didn’t think you would.”

What else was he supposed to do? When confronted with a problem in his dreams, is he supposed to do nothing? To turn back, stay on land?

He misses the sea. Of course he jumped.

“I named him Clay,” Thetis says. She’s moving around George in slow circles, the water following her every move. He finally breathes in and gets a lungful of water. It burns. He breathes again. “I named him Clay after a mixture of the land and the sea, for that is what he is. And he chose to throw that name away.”

He breathes again. His lungs are full of the water he’s tried so hard to avoid. Thetis seems to take pity on him and his lungs empty, a small bubble of air surrounding him.

“They call him Dream,” she says. “And I do not know why. Do you know why, young George? Why they call him Dream?”

It’s permission for him to speak.

“Because that’s what he is,” George replies. “Good or bad. He’s like a Dream.”

“Something intangible, untouchable, the source of confusion and terror and hope,” Thetis responds. She’s swirling around him, faster now. “What about you? What do they call you?”

“George, I guess,” he says. “I don’t have another name.”

“Who are you, George?” Thetis asks, drawing close. “Who are you? Why did my son choose you above anyone else? He could have anyone, anything, and yet all he wants is you. Whose son are you, to make you so important?”

He has been discarded by his father. He does not know his mother. He breathes in the air under the water and he speaks the truth.

“I am no one,” he says. “I am nothing.”

It is not the truth.

“No,” Thetis tells him. “Perhaps your identity has not been found yet, but you are not no one. Where are you, George?”

“I am here.”

“And where is here?”

“The sea.”

“The sea.” She’s moving faster. She’s less human, now, she’s becoming one with the water itself. “Where are you, George? Who are you?”

The air bubble is getting smaller. It’s getting harder to breathe.

  
“Hasn’t been found,” he chokes out. “Not found.”

“You are George, Not Found,” Thetis says, and her voice is so loud it’s splitting his skull. There’s no air, he can’t breathe, and he’s kicking frantically toward the surface but there is no escape. There’s a whirlpool pulling him back down and Thetis’s voice is in his ears. “Protect my son.”

Everything goes black, and then he wakes up with a start, throwing himself away from Dream. He’s still choking, and he can feel Dream’s hands on his back as he hunches over on all fours and coughs the water out of his lungs.

It hits the ground with a deafening splash, real, tangible, there. Dream is saying his name but George can’t hear anything other than the voice of a sea goddess telling him to protect her child, and he knows, even if she hadn’t just nearly killed him through a nightmare, he would do anything to protect Dream anyways.

“George,” Dream’s voice says, finally drowning out his mother’s. “Are you okay? What happened? Where’d all the water come from?”

“I’m fine,” George coughs out, sitting back on his haunches and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Dream guides him back to their bed, pulls him close, murmurs soft nothings in his ear, and all George can think about is the sea. “I’m fine.”

There is water in his lungs, swirling and desperate. There is an ocean in his heart and the waves are crashing in time with Dream’s words. The tides in his stomach are wild with the feeling of Dream pressed against him. He breathes in the cold night air, and the waves settle. He is George, not found, chosen by Thetis to protect the greatest hero in Greece. 

  
  
  
  


He is George, not found, and the greatest hero in Greece is being a bit of a whiny nuisance.

“George,” Dream says, pressing his face into the back of George’s neck, arms wrapped tight around his chest. “Do you have to go?”

“Yes,” George grumbles. “Since you’re so insistent on not doing anything.”

Schlatt called a meeting to plan their next moves, and while Dream still refuses to get involved, George wants to know what’s going on. He’ll attend for Phthia and he’ll serve as a reminder to Schlatt that he could have everything, he could win this war in an instant, and instead he holds Alyssa away, he continues to scorn Dream’s pride.

Dream lets him go reluctantly. George promises to come right back, and Dream pouts at him anyways.

He stands next to Sapnap as Schlatt and Quackity beckon everyone to gather around. They’re on the Trojan side of the fortifications, which seems risky, but the kings seem confident.

“This is going to be a mess,” Sapnap mutters. George rolls his eyes.

Antfrost is the one to step forward and suggest sending a spy to the Trojan lines. Sapnap shifts next to him, bouncing from foot to foot. George nudges him with his shoulder, and Sapnap sends him a grin as he steps forward.

“I’ll go,” he says loudly. “I’ll go to their ranks.”

“Not alone,” George murmurs. “You’re too hot-headed.”

Sapnap sends him a glare, but he voices this. Bad steps forward on his other side, steady look on his face.

“Excellent!” Schlatt yells. “The chosen of Athena. Go through their ranks and find information.”

“We will,” Bad says loudly.

“Be safe,” George mutters before they go, shaking both of their hands.

He returns to the tent and lets Dream wind their bodies together, not moving, just resting. He feels Dream’s sleep-heavy breath on the back of his neck and he does not sleep. He hasn’t sleep well since this war started, not even when he’s in Dream’s arms, and he doubts he’ll sleep well until the war is over.

It’s seven hours before the two return in a gleaming chariot, both grinning. George has just reemerged from the tent, searching for news, the chords of Dream’s lyre following him in the back of his mind. There are cheers from the Greeks as Sapnap and Bad approach- most had been murmuring that the two had doubtlessly been killed. George notes the blood on Sapnap’s hands and watches as he throws down a set of Trojan armor.

“We killed a spy sent by Techno,” Sapnap announces loudly, once a majority of the men have dispersed. George remains with a few others as the two tell them what happened. “He was going to infiltrate our lines, see if we planned an escape. Lucky we ran into him.”

“And stole his armor,” George points out. Sapnap shrugs.

“Spy called Fundy, he gave us the locations and numbers of the Trojans and their allies,” Bad informs them quickly. “We killed Rheseus of the Thracians, this is his chariot.”

“Hopefully that’ll send a message, then,” Schlatt says with a nod. “We will not be so easily defeated.”

Then comes the next day.

“George,” Dream growls early in the morning. “Why are you putting on armor?”

“I’m joining the archers,” George replies coolly. “Like I’ve been doing.”

“You’re injured,” Dream protests. “Going to meetings is one thing, but fighting-”

“Dream,” he says impatiently. “Please. I can handle myself. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“No, I can’t- I can’t  _ lose _ you, George-”

“You’re not going to lose me, I can take care of myself-”

“Stay here. Please.”

George stays.

And then, hours later, they see Antfrost bringing an injured Callahan back to camp, flying through the ranks of Phthians on a chariot. He’s followed by what looks like Punz with both Bad and Sapnap bleeding out. George turns to Dream with a desperate look in his eyes.

  
“Yeah,” Dream says, also looking worried. “Go.”

So George goes, straight for the medical tents, sprinting as fast as he can. The healers are frantically working on Bad, completely surrounding him, and there’s what looks like a sword wound through his ribs. Sapnap has an arrow sticking out of his gut and is cursing loudly. Callahan looks mostly fine, several shallow cuts covering his body, and he’s attempting to force the healers off of him so he can get to the other two.

“George, thank the gods,” Callahan spits out. “Tell them I’m fine, it’s Bad we need to worry about-”

“Oh, forget me, I’m okay,” Sapnap spits. George sends him a glare as he shoves Callahan back down.

  
“You need to take care of yourself,” he orders. “We’ve got plenty of people here that can handle this. Are any of them about to die?”

“Perfectly fine,” Bad calls. “Just a stab wound. I’ll live.”

“I’m dying,” Sapnap says to George sarcastically. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

“The arrow didn’t even go through, you’re fine,” George says with a frown, examining the wound. It’s also a shallow injury, though with the placement they’re lucky it didn’t go through and pierce any internal organs.

“I see the light!” Sapnap calls dramatically as George walks away, shaking his head. “Elysium! George, remember me!”

Ignoring Sapnap, he approaches Antfrost, trusting whatever he recounts of the events that led to this: two of their best warriors and their best healer in the medical tents, all injured. “What happened?” he asks, Ant already turning to him.

“I’m assuming this information will be passed along to Dream?” he muses. He looks tired. George gets the feeling.

“Of course.”

And Ant tells him. Tells him how in the morning, Zeus rained blood on their lines, causing mass panic and a massacre. But by afternoon, following Schlatt’s lead, the Achaeans rose to fight back. He managed to kill two sons of Sam, a powerful Trojan leader, before being driven from the field by his wounds.

“Bad and Sapnap managed to convince the men to continue on,” Ant says. “But Techno chose that moment to attack. And Sapnap- he threw a spear that struck Techno’s helmet. He retreated, and that’s when Wilbur shot Sap in the side.”

“I’m fine, by the way!” Sapnap yells, listening in on their conversation. “No more arrow in my gut and everything!”

“You’re losing blood way too fast, shut up,” Callahan snaps. George notes the haphazard bandages on the healer’s body with a roll of his eyes and turns back to Ant.

“Bad was surrounded, someone managed to stab him before Punz got to him. We managed to hold Techno off on the other side, but after treating Schlatt, Callahan was attacked. Wilbur managed to get to him and he wasn’t prepared to defend. Everyone panicked, it was like the second our best healer was injured they all thought ‘oh, now’s a great time to get more injuries.’”

George snorts at this. Ant is shaking his head slightly.

“George,” he says seriously. “We need Dream out on the field. No one is any match for him, not on our side or theirs.”

“You know where Dream stands,” George replies. “He’s not going to fight until Schlatt himself apologizes. And I fear not even that will change his mind.” He hasn’t wanted to think about what will happen if Schlatt apologizes and Dream still refuses. He knows before long, this will turn into a massacre, and it won’t be there side that comes out victorious.

“If you-” Ant starts, then stops. “If you were to join the field.” Here he pauses, as if considering his words.

“I have,” George points out. “Several times.” He points to the bandage still wrapped around his leg. “That’s from Techno himself. My presence will do nothing.”

“But if you were to wear Dream’s mask,” Ant says quietly. “Just having his aura there would be enough to encourage the men. Even if you stood in the background, didn’t engage in the battle- it would be enough, I think, to strike fear in the hearts of the Trojans and strike hope in the hearts of our men. Enough to drive the Trojans back.”

And George has to admit, that’s not a bad idea. Dream himself is something powerful, but so is the mere idea of Dream. He’s not known as the greatest warrior in Greece for nothing.

  
“I’ll talk to him,” George says reluctantly. Ant breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he says seriously. George nods and swallows a lump in his throat, feeling like he’s just condemned them both to something that neither of them is ready for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character comparisons that haven't been mentioned yet:
> 
> dolon - fundy  
> antenor - sam
> 
> comments/kudos/subs/etc are always appreciated! :)


	5. v. they envy us because we're mortal,

Sometimes, George dreams of his blood on his hands and a knife in his gut and he wakes up in a cold sweat. Other times the blood is Dream’s, and he’s being held back, unable to do anything other than scream as a faceless warrior slams their sword on the back of Dream’s heel and he goes down limp. On those nights he awakens with the scream of Dream’s name on his lips and jerks away from his best friend’s sleeping form.

Sometimes, Dream wakes up, holds George tight and rocks them back and forth and promises him that he isn’t going anywhere, that nothing’s going to happen to them. Other times Dream sleeps through it, and George goes and walks around for hours on end, until the early hours of the morning when the sun rises and he slips back into bed next to Dream so the other doesn’t know that anything was ever wrong.

On one of those nights, when they’re teenagers and training with the great centaur Chiron far away from the rest of the world, George leaves their little cave and sits on a ledge overlooking what feels like the entire world. There are lights in the far distance, and when he hears footsteps behind him, he doesn’t turn, figuring it’s Dream. He fails to distinguish the difference between footsteps and hoofsteps, not for the first time and not for the last.

“My child,” Chiron says, and George startles. He stands and bows respectfully, and Chiron waves him off. “What has you up so late?”

George considers lying, but he knows Chiron would see right through him. He shrugs, tries to figure out how to put his nightmares into words, and settles on, “I keep seeing him dying.”

Chiron hums in understanding, folds his legs underneath his body, rests on the ground next to George. George takes this as his cue to sit and knows that he’s about to get a lecture that isn’t really a lecture, but more of a story with some sort of important lesson at the end.

“Dreams are dangerous things,” the centaur says. “As you can tell by your friend.”

Chiron knows they aren’t just friends, but they’ve never brought it up to him, and he’s never brought it up to them. George stays quiet.

“Yours may be more so than others,” he continues. “Because you- you see yourself as the side character in Dream’s great legend, yes?”

Yes. He always has. He’s never felt like the protagonist, always just the one meant to assist, to be the companion, to stand on the side and watch Dream conquer the world. He’s always been content with that; he doesn’t want to be the hero.

He nods.

Chiron smiles.

“Yes. Which means that you think it will happen, that Dream will die while you are unable to do anything to stop it, that you will be held back and you will watch him suffer.”

It occurs to George that he never actually told Chiron what the nightmares entailed. He chooses not to question it.

He nods again.

“It very well may happen,” Chiron says. “But you must remember that you are a hero too, young George. You will always be able to do something to stop it. You may not see it, but you are just as great as he is.”

“I’m not strong,” George says, shaking his head.

“You are.”

“Not strong enough to change fate.”

Chiron smiles at him again. “No one is strong enough to change fate, not even Dream. And as much as he talks about merely avoiding it- well, he is destined to do great things. And people who do great things usually die great deaths.”

This is not comforting.

“I can’t do this,” George says after a moment, choking on his own words. The idea of Dream’s death is filling his throat, his mind, his lungs, and it’s so terrifying he can barely breathe. He can’t let Dream die, not if there’s anything he can do to prevent it, he can’t, he can’t- “I can’t watch him die.”

“Either you will, or you won’t,” Chiron says with a shrug. “And if you are there to see it happen, if you are forced to watch and be able to do nothing- trust me when I say you will see each other again. When two are so close they are practically one, not even death can keep them apart.”

With that, Chiron stands. George thanks him quietly, and a moment later Dream sits by his side.

“What was that about?” he asks jokingly. George hastily wipes the tears out from under his eyes. Dream’s voice softens. “Hey, are you okay?” He reaches out cautiously, and George leans into his touch.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just a bad dream.”

“None of that,” Dream says. “No bad dreams when there’s a good Dream right here.”

“That was fucking awful,” he snorts. Dream gives him a half-smile.

“I’m doing my best. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

They sit there for a while longer, watching the rest of the world go by. George speaks first.

“If we do ever go to fight at Troy,” he says slowly. “Do you promise you won’t do anything stupid?”

“I swear it to you, George,” Dream replies easily. “Anything for you. I won’t do anything stupid.”

  
  
  
  


This, George thinks, is pretty fucking stupid. The fact that he’s pacing outside their tent, not even sure what to say to his best friend that will make him actually listen. Because they are  _ dying _ out there, Sapnap and Bad and Callahan all almost died today, and still Dream sits by and does nothing. He takes a deep breath, preparing for Dream to reject his proposal.

Dream is waiting for him when he enters the tent, one eyebrow raised.

“Any news?” he asks.

“Everyone’s fine,” George replies. “Sapnap and Bad were both badly injured, Callahan is mostly okay. But I sincerely doubt any of them will be returning to the field anytime soon.”

Dream shrugs. “Not my problem,” he says. “But I’m glad they’re okay.”

“Antfrost wanted me to try talking to you again.”

“You know what my answer is.”

They stare each other down for a moment.

  
“If you won’t fight, at least let me,” George tries. “Let me wear your armor, let them think you’re on the field-”

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to make you a target,” Dream says immediately. “And if I’m not fighting, my men aren’t fighting.”

“And at this rate you won’t fight even if Schlatt returns Alyssa, will you?” George says, his heart sinking. Dream doesn’t respond; he doesn’t have to. They both already know the answer. “Fine. I’ll fight without you and without your armor and without your men.”

“You’re injured,” Dream protests, his steely gaze instantly shifting. “You can’t fight.”

“Bad was stabbed through the gut today and he’s still planning on fighting,” George says. “Sapnap got shot and gods know he’s going to try and get back on the field.”

“You’re-”

“Don’t you dare say I’m different, Dream, I’m no different from the rest of them. A spear grazed my leg, that’s hardly anything to be concerned about compared to the injuries I’ve seen.”

“You’re different because I care about you, George-”

“You care about them, too, you’re just too stubborn to admit it-”

“You mean more to me than anything else-”

“Really? Because you sure as shit don’t act like it-”

And their voices are getting louder and then they’re screaming at each other and somewhere a trumpet sounds and George grabs his bow and quiver and shakes them violently in Dream’s direction.

“I don’t care if you won’t fight,” he says. “For you, I won’t get involved in the field. I’ll stay back with Sapnap and Bad. But you can’t fucking stop me from going out there.”

“Fine,” Dream spits. “Be that way.”

George turns on his heel and storms out of the tent without another word. He makes it to the fortifications quickly, men streaming around him, preparing to fight. He makes it to the top of the barricade and seeks out Sapnap and Bad, both standing near Punz, watching the battle. Bad has a crutch; Sapnap is shirtless, bandages wrapped around his torso.

“What’s going on?” George asks breathlessly. He scans the field quickly, the fighting men; most are hurling spears at each other across the trenches. He can pick out Schlatt and Quackity at the forefront easily. On the other side, Techno’s familiar chariot rides back and forth.

“Something’s different,” Bad says, just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the fight. “Tubbo’s on the field with Tommy.”

“What?” George asks. “I thought they stuck together, why is it different?”

“Tubbo normally stays back, he’s their main strategist,” Bad explains. “If he’s on the field, that means they have something planned.”

George picks out Tubbo amidst the crowd, riding in the same chariot as Tommy. He watches as they nearly collide with Techno and- holy shit, that’s literally a child, he knew Tommy and Tubbo were young but they’re literally  _ children- _ Tubbo jumps from one chariot to the other. He points to the left-hand side of the Trojan line, and George follows his arm to see an eagle flying past, serpent falling from its grip.

“Eret!” George yells across the fortifications. The seer comes running. “An eagle just dropped a serpent, what-”

Eret’s face falls. Sapnap shifts nervously.

“Bad,” Eret says. “That’s bad-”

“They’re storming the trenches,” Punz mutters, staring down at the field. “They’re disembarking their chariots and storming the trenches-”

“TO THE SHIPS!” Bad screams as loud as he can. “They’re coming for the ramparts!”

“Punz, get down there!” George yells, pulling his bow off his back. “We need to hold them off for our men to retreat!”

Punz nods and draws his sword, and George spies Ponk and Purpled rushing to join him. Leading the Trojan charge are two figures George hasn’t encountered yet, but has heard plenty about, and he recognizes their armor- Skeppy, one of the most powerful Trojan warriors, and Jack, a son of Zeus.

He shoots a warning arrow at Jack, not wanting to incite Zeus’s wrath. It strikes the ground at the man’s feet, and Jack makes eye contact with George before continuing his charge. The rest of the Trojans dive into the trenches after them. The Achaeans are retreating under Schlatt’s orders, a steady stream of men fighting their way to the ships. 

A few stay at the front, led by Punz, attempting to keep the Trojans at bay. George continues picking off men that get too close for comfort, but he’s running out of arrows and the fortifications are bound to fall soon. Sapnap yells to him from the ground, telling him to get down, but he keeps shooting. He needs to make up for Dream’s absence, he  _ has _ to-

Jack is the first to breach the Greek lines, and George watches as Techno literally  _ hurls a boulder _ at one of the gates. He can feel the entire line of wood shaking, men still up top flailing as they fall, and he grabs the nearest railing to keep himself from plummeting over the edge.

“George!” Sapnap yells up at him again. “Get down!”

He sends one more arrow into the fray and clambers down as quickly as he can, making his way back with Sapnap to the ships. The Trojans are continuing to pursue them, getting closer. George stops to send a few more arrows back, and someone calls his name.

  
Karl stops his chariot before Sapnap and George, and they both climb on quickly. He takes them as far back to the ships as they dare, watching the struggle continue, and then a voice rises from somewhere in the crowd.

The fighting stops as one of the gods- Poseidon, George thinks- channels his power through Eret, his voice magnified across the entire field, calling out to Punz, Purpled, and Ponk to resist the Trojan assault, then encouraging the rest of the men to follow the lead of their commanders.

Karl’s chariot is at the front of the line, so George can clearly see Technoblade. Techno seems to recognize him. He nods slowly, respectfully, a greeting, and George narrows his eyes. He nearly misses it when Techno whips his arm back and throws his lance at George.

Something grazes along his head. Sapnap pulls him to the floor of the chariot and his ears are ringing and his sight is gone, for just a moment, before it comes swimming back into focus. He reaches one hand up to his forehead and pulls it away bloody.

“It’s just a scratch,” Sapnap is saying when his ears decide to work properly again. “Don’t worry, you’re fine-”

He loses track of the battle for a bit, but when he manages to pull himself up again, Sapnap looking at him worriedly, it’s certainly more favorable for the Achaeans. Punz and Purpled have beaten Techno back and soundly killed a vast majority of the front lines on the Trojans’ right, and Ponk and Quackity are raining hell along the left-hand side. Karl points out Tommy and Tubbo racing toward Techno, and the prince calls for them to pull back.

Wilbur flies past Techno, who’s waiting for his men to make it back through the fortifications. The Greeks, relieved, let them go.

“That’s right, coward!” Punz yells. His sword is dropping blood and he’s missing several pieces of armor. At his side, Purpled is pacing back and forth. “Retreat!”

And then there’s an eagle on his right, and Eret cries that it’s a favorable sign for the Achaeans, and with a mocking salute Techno turns and follows his men through the fortifications.

George lets out a breath. Sapnap grins at him.

“Come on,” Karl mutters. “This isn’t over yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character comparisons not yet mentioned:
> 
> glaucus - skeppy  
> sarpedon - jack
> 
> and i sort of combined patroclus's role with teucer's, so in this case teucer would also be george
> 
> comments are always encouraging!


End file.
